Spring Lullaby
by See The Light
Summary: Ianto is secretly a very good artist. One day, he decides that he wants to paint Jack, and brings him to a place that's very dear to him. Janto


**Full title: Spring Lullaby for the Cariad**

**Based on another fluff prompt from my friend, who actually did some of the writing here. :D**

**Prompt:**

**-Ianto secretly paints and brings Jack to an enclosure to paint him. Include details about his parents being artists too. **

* * *

"Ianto?" A tall, spiky-haired man called, hands stuffed in his pants, under the large coat that he almost always donned. He waited patiently, standing outside the apartment that he visited almost everyday, as it housed his… lover? Boyfriend? He disliked labels, because he couldn't explain what exactly who the person was to him without seeming too idealistic, too unrealistic, too childish.

He grinned as he saw a man, just a little shorter than him, with a messy mop of dark hair curling just over his ears, stumble out of the front door and almost crash into him, a large, black bag in his hands.

"Jack!" The man cried, his face breaking into a grin. Jack's grin grew larger as he enveloped his arms around the man, lips pressing to his head.

"So… where are we going today, Yan?" Jack asked, anticipating the 'surprise' that had been promised to him. Ianto moved away from his embrace, gesturing to continue to the elevator a few feet away from them.

"Somewhere that I like to go on nice, sunny days like this," Ianto answered as they stepped into the elevator, pressing the ground floor button. Jack seemed unsatisfied by the answer, but shrugged off the curiosity, simply focusing on the way that the corners of Ianto's lips seemed to turn up when he thought of their destination. As the elevator slowed to a stop, they stepped out, making their way to the car park next to the apartment building. Stopping at his car, Ianto opened the trunk of the car, carefully placing the bag inside, and closing it, opening the passenger door for Jack.

"So does this mean that I'm the woman?" Jack asked teasingly, slipping into the car. Ianto rolled his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

"If that's how you'd like it, then yes," Ianto replied cheerily, sliding onto the driver's seat. Jack pouted mockingly, attempting to look like an irritated child, but failing, the twinkle in his eyes shining with amusement, and a little bit of curiosity. With a soft chuckle, Ianto started the car, and they drove toward the country, away from the loud noises of the city, and into their own, quiet little world.

"How long until we're there?" Jack asked absently, focused on the rolling, green hills of countryside passing by his eyes.

"Nearly there, about five minutes, I'd say," Ianto said, with a quick glance at his watch. Jack nodded, and continued to watch the window.

When they stopped, they got out quickly, eager to stretch their legs after the long car ride. Ianto went to the trunk, taking the bag out and opening it, looking at Jack.

"Close your eyes," Ianto said, walking towards Jack, who was leaning against the hood of the car, legs crossed slightly. Jack obliged and closed his eyes. He could feel fabric on his eyelids, and realized that Ianto had blindfolded him. He smiled lightly, chuckling quietly. He felt soft hands on his shoulders, and grabbed one of them, brushing his thumb over the palm. He was pushed forward gently, and he started to walk, trusting the light weight on his shoulders to guide him. The ground beneath his feet was soft, like the soft touch of silk, like the soft feel of velvet on smooth hands. It smelled like an assortment of wildflowers, the variety of smells making the scent intoxicating. He could feel nothing but the heat of sun warming his empty palm, and the warmth of Ianto's hands on his shoulder, the gentle touch of his fingers on his palms.

Suddenly, they had stopped, and he could feel Ianto's nimble fingers fiddling with the fabric tied around his head.

The fabric dropped to the ground.

The sudden burst of color after the black nothingness was nothing short of extraordinary to Jack's eyes. The leaves beneath their feet glistened in the sun's rays, the large array of colors, every color of the rainbow and beyond, were scattered around the ground, in the form of freshly-blossomed flowers that seemed to sway in the light breeze that drifted through the field. The field was surrounded by large, sprawling trees, their branches forming a ring around the field, as if it was hoarding out destruction, any anger, any wrath, and simply leaving the nicest parts of the world, the peace, the serenity, in one sanctuary that seemed to be meant for the two of them, and for their eyes only. The distant sound of birdsong, the soft chirping of insects, the faint, gushing sound of the wind rushing past their ears, it seemed to add to the sudden wave of _peace_ that suddenly settled over them.

"How…" Jack couldn't stop the breath from rushing out of his lungs, the beauty of the place seeming to affect his breathing. "How did you find this place?" he asked, his eyes wide, attempting to take in every nook and cranny of this setting.

"My parents," Ianto murmured, the soft, soothing quality of his voice matching perfectly with the scene, "they used to come here." He thought of them, of his mother's tranquil croon that seemed to synchronize itself with his father's gradual brushstrokes, in this place, in this… heaven that they had stumbled upon as people as young as he was today. Jack nodded. Ianto seemed to shake himself out of some sort of trance, and opened his bag, dropping to his knees. He pulled out a folded up easel, and parts of a stool. He unfolded the easel, Jack assembling the stool.

"So what do you plan to do?" Jack asked curiously. Ianto said nothing, pulling out a canvas and placing it gently on the easel. He picked up the stool that Jack had assembled, and put to close to the easel, but too close.

"Sit," Ianto said, gesturing to the stool. Jack sat on the stool, back straight, looking at Ianto. Ianto nodded, and opened a black box that had been placed next to him, plucking out a brush and a palette and placed them on a table that had appeared sometime after Jack had sat down. Grabbing a pencil, he pressed the tip to the canvas, quick marks appearing on the surface. Jack sat patiently, watching Ianto, a small smile on his face. Ianto's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, yet a smile, one that seemed bright and focused, lingered on his lips. After Ianto appeared to be satisfied by the light pencil marks on the canvas, he got some tubes out of his bag, squeezing out color by color into his palette. He dabbed his brush in the paint and moved it toward the canvas, light strokes with the small brush in his hand.

When Ianto paints, Jack notices, time stops, and everything slows down, almost to a sweet halt. And only the sound of birds singing to a nameless tune along with the sound of breeze rolling in could be heard with the soft strokes of the paint and the brush.

When Ianto paints, his eyes are shut, thinking back to his father, with the slow strokes across the canvas making the image brighter in his head, more vivid. He thought of his mother, humming along to the tune of the picture as she stood behind him, focused on the window in front of them, the window that showed their picturesque life, of newly blooming daffodils sprinkled over the grass that was green, so green that it made him think of emeralds, of intricately cut emeralds. Their life was of the large oak tree that slithered up to the sky, providing shade and comfort for those under it.

Their life could be seen through that great window, the sun's rays spilling though the glass and shining on their faces.

"_Cariad mam sy dan fy mron; _

_Ni cha' dim amharu'th gyntun,_

_Ni wna undyn â thi gam;_

_Huna'n dawel, annwyl blentyn,_

_Huna'n fwyn ar fron dy fam."_

She would croon softly, that small, soft smile that he would always remember, the one that would make her blue eyes shine, the one that made her nose crinkle slightly, adorning her face. The paintbrush seemed to move along with the carrying, melodic tune of her voice.

He opened his eyes, the thought still fresh in his mind. The first thing he saw were Jack's eyes, wide open, the electric blue of the iris reminding him of the pure _energy_ that ran through the man. The light glittered in his eyes, and somehow, he could see it.

He could see love in his eyes. It glimmered under the blue ring of his eyes, like sunken treasure beneath the depths of the ocean. He could feel the burning passion within his heart. The fire of Ianto's heart was flaring up, bursting into beauty. The hand and brush became unified into one, and moved gracefully along the canvas. And yet, as he mixed the colors on the palette, he couldn't find the right color to communicate the electric energy that ran through the man, the contrast of the power of his hurricane personality versus the softness of the expression that was reserved for Ianto, and Ianto only. No matter what combination of colors he tried, it would always look wrong. The one that he wanted, the one color he desired to is almost non-existent; it's a color that only he, Ianto, could see. No words, no actions would be able to describe the intensity or the alluring characteristics of the color. For it was a color to specifically describe Jack. And no one, absolutely no one, knew the real Jack as he did. So, twisting his mouth into a small frown, he settled for a well-mixed combination of blue and gray, which reminded him vaguely of a thunderstorm in the middle of London, the energy of multiple people flowing through it, combined with the strikes of lightning against the sky.

Jack still felt lost.

How could he, a monster, be _here_? In this beautiful garden, with this beautiful man?  
What could he_ possibly_ have done to deserve this? He had broken hearts, had pierced hearts with bullets, even, and yet, he was here, and he could hear his heart beating loudly as he saw Ianto's cool, ice blue eyes flicker onto him, and his heart started going at double the speed that it had been thumping at before. He tried to retain his original, charming smile that people of all kinds would fall to their knees for, but instead, his smile burst into a large, goofy, lovestruck grin. Ianto paused, brush in the air, a splodge of paint about to drip off of it, and returned the smile, eyes shining.  
Even after knowing him for so long, Jack still refused to believe that Ianto was his, and he was Ianto's.  
But, then again, if Ianto did love him, then Jack knew that he could not ask for anything else.

* * *

Ianto looked at the portrait with pride. Jack's painting was finally up on the wall just behind his bed in Ianto's house.  
"You love me that much?" Jack asks teasingly, seeing the painting through Ianto's open bedroom door when he enters the house. With a certain feeling, Ianto replies,  
"Surely you would've figured out by now?"  
You're not that easy to read, Yan."

* * *

**-2:30AM 12/2/12**

**-10:58PM 12/6/12**


End file.
